


Hypothermia

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes the way he interacts with Zayn. He supposes he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothermia

Harry doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like it when people label him as a sweet kitten that will never react harsh to people’s awful treatment. He doesn’t like it when people see him as a tame animal. Moreover, he doesn’t like it when people enrage him just to see him unmasked.

He doesn’t have a mask, and he doesn’t need one. Hiding a truth doesn’t count as lying, that’s the same theory. He has his dark side, covered by his glorious surface. He is not afraid of showing him. It’s just that people never notice.

People love to guess his feelings, or over-analysing every step he makes. It’s like a cliché novel; the famous people must have some surprising stories that nobody knows. Behind their splendid smile, there must be some sad and ugly reality.

Everyone questions whether he is happy or not. And he finds it funny because not even himself knows the answer of the question. Also, he doesn’t care about the answer either. Of course he wants to be happy, but he’s not eager to make sure he is happy all the time. He doesn’t understand why it is a big deal to people who don’t even know him.

But of course he enjoys being loved. And Harry is grateful to be loved. However, he prefers to love people more. Loving people is interesting; following their emotion and filling your own thoughts with their lives. That’s a bit selfish, he guesses, because it is a great feeling, but he doesn’t want people to experience it on him.

Invisible. That’s what he dreams to be after being exposed under the spotlight for such a long time. It was all fun and crazy at the beginning, until the glory fog has faded away. He knows there is not fairy tales for him, and he is not expecting one. And this makes it harder for Harry to love people. He can’t even love people normally.

Zayn is a good example.

The existence of Zayn is enthralling, that is what Harry has been aware of. He hates it when people call Zayn attractive, pretty or beautiful. Zayn is too artistic to define. Those adjectives are shallow and nonsense to be used on Zayn. Actually, no one should ever describe Zayn. It is no need to put extra depiction on him. Every word to be put on him would be offensive because none of them could be accurate.

And that’s a dilemma for Harry since whenever he looks at Zayn, his mind will start generating sentences like a sudden shower in August. Harry has fun with his guilty pleasure all the time. He likes the way he loves Zayn, just like an amateur trying to explain a masterpiece in his own cracky language.

Somehow, cheekily, he feels like that Zayn fancies him back.

The way Zayn glances at him, touching his face, and playing with curls are Harry’s favourite obsessions. And Zayn’s looking away when Harry turns around is forever the best part of this game. Whether he succeeds or not, Harry will never forget to reward it with a whisper in his ear. Although the biggest purpose of Harry doing this is for the tremble Zayn gives in return.

For some reasons Zayn will come to his room at night, leaving with nothing but a simple sleepover. Zayn doesn’t talk much in bed, and Harry doesn’t want to bother. Zayn’s chill, and that’s why Harry finds him endearing. Everytime he thinks about this, he can’t stop giggling in pleasure. And Zayn will frown unhappily with his eyes closed, smashing Harry with his pillow, which makes Harry laugh even louder. And when Zayn finally falls asleep, Harry will make sure he has a kiss on Zayn’s amazing cheekbone, also wondering if Zayn has ever done the same thing.

Zayn never gets up on time. Yet when he’s sharing a bed with Harry, he always leaves while Harry is still sleeping, and Harry is going to open his eyes with the other empty side of his bed. Although Harry has tried a lot of time to wake up before Zayn did, Zayn seems to have some magic power to make him fail. He was ruffled with this. But after adapting to the situation, it becomes another mode of them two. And Harry never loses his opportunity to imagine what Zayn is doing while watching him sleep.

He likes the way Zayn loves him, just like a single father scolding his children, “you all little spoiled bastards ruined my life” but still dresses up as Santa and buys their favourite toys on Christmas.

There is a hazy glass between both of them. Whenever Harry tries to look through it, all he gets is Zayn’s blurry figure. Zayn is hard to capture, and Harry is always too late to press his shutter. What are left on the films are just some misty images. “You’re sorta mystery sometimes. ” Zayn once told him. Harry smiled, without replying that Zayn was even a harder puzzle for him.

Harry isn’t quite sure what he really wants from Zayn. He appreciates and worships Zayn more over than the level of friends. And yeah he won’t lie about that he did have some imagine of a deeper relationship with his bandmember. He’s eager for a chance of Zayn’s temperature against his chest, and his breath around Zayn’s waist. He knows it is a general side effect for a person who’s hanging with Zayn all the time. But Harry doesn’t know if that’s what he really asks for.

“You look lonelier with Zayn” said Louis. Harry didn’t comment on this. He didn’t blame Louis on this opinion since they have been rolling in the same sheet together. But that’s a different situation. Harry loves Louis too, but not the same emotion as what he feels toward Zayn. He won’t mind having a one night stand with Niall and Liam either. Ironically, he might as well reject Zayn if that happens on them. To Harry, it is like destroying a priceless artwork.

And it was awful. When they rushed back to their hotel tipsily after the party that they don’t remember what it was for. Their lips pressed together when they were in the elevator—or in Zayn’s bathroom, Harry couldn’t identify. Shirts slipped down to their ankles. And Zayn was grabbing Harry’s shoulders with his nails in Harry’s skin. It was all smooth and elegant. But then Harry saw his own reflection in the mirror, he felt disgusting abruptly. “No”, he uttered. Zayn stopped in confusion. “No, no”, he started yelling and screaming. Zayn was a little bit surprised, or actually, way too calm. He put on his clothes while Harry was crying inexplicably in the corner. The next day they both had serious hangover. Neither of them ever mentioned this from then on.

Harry is not certain whether he likes it that way anymore.

Zayn spends his whole weekend with Perrie’s family. That makes Harry feel terrible. The balance is broken. He wants to get everything he’s familiar with back, but the system goes wrong. And it’s so obvious that everyone other than them can tell.

“So did you and Zayn fuck” Niall is soon hit by a magazine thrown by Harry.

Harry supposes he has to apologise to Zayn. But on the other hand it is better not to mention about this anymore.

At that night Harry has a dream that Zayn knocks on his door and tells him, “Don’t treat me like I’m delicate. You don’t like that feeling either, do you?”

“But you’re special,” Harry protests, “I’ve never met anyone as unique as you are. I can’t face you like I face any other person. It’s just not right.”

“Then don’t face me again.” Zayn smashes the door. Harry wakes up with his eyes painfully filled with water.

“Don’t buy the love you can’t afford” his English teacher taught him when he was 14. But Harry can’t even measure if he can handle it or not. He has no idea how much he has, and how much it costs.

Yet three days later when the real Zayn knocks on the door, he doesn’t say anything but just walks in the room with his own pillow. “Mind if we share a room?” he’s not looking at Harry.

“Not at all”, said Harry in an unnatural high pitch, frustratedly.

Harry doesn’t giggle when they’re both in bed, and he forgets to leave a kiss mark on Zayn’s perfectly sculpted face. The thing which never changes is that he is waking up alone as usual. The empty half of the bunk seems colder than before.

He flips his fingertips above the sheet, seeking a single piece of Zayn’s temperature, until he realises what he has in his palm are just some ashes of his memory. He leaves a kiss into the dry air.

All he needs to do is only fix the mode up, just like he always does. One day he will discover the attraction of this new way and he, he will still be falling in love with it anyway.

He likes the way he loves Zayn.

Fin.


End file.
